


Creased notebooks and faded polaroids

by Inky_Scribbles



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Clone Angst, Drinking, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Wally West, Mostly just comfort, Pizza, Swearing, Talking, Underage Drinking, but like, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:34:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Scribbles/pseuds/Inky_Scribbles
Summary: Things have been rough since New Year's, but Roy's still somewhat got his shit together. He doesn't mind trying to keep someone else's in line, too.//Dick raises a single, dainty eyebrow. “Aren’t you underage?”Roy also raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”“And aren’t I underage?”He cocks his head to the side, a smile brimming to his lips. “Also yes?”
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Clone Roy Harper | Will Harper
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	Creased notebooks and faded polaroids

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dbakeiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbakeiro/gifts).



> I've been writing a lot more swearing into my fics recently. Idk why.
> 
> This is my first time writing Roy, but I definitely enjoyed it. I hope I did him justice!
> 
> Also, I am on a role when it comes to writing. This is the third update in a row. Geez. (now if only i could wokr on some of my wips.......)

Roy stares at the six pack of beer on the coffee table. He hadn’t bothered to read the label when he’d bought it, and he doesn’t know what percentage it is (not that he really wants to know). But the packaging is a cheerful green and blue, and the splashes of pasted on water droplets look refreshing.

He’s always _heard_ that beer tastes good. Or, at least that it’s a decent way to get drunk.

He’s never been drunk before. In fact, he’s never really considered it as something he could do, with how fit he has to keep his body. But the idea of it sounds nice - the forgetting, the rosy-faced happiness he’d seen on TV - so he’d gone out with a fake ID and bought a six pack, grabbed some takeout pizza and gotten back to this half rotten apartment within the hour. And now he’s having a staring contest with a six pack at eight PM, pacific standard time, like most people do the first time they drink. Probably.

With half of a plan in mind, he pulls out a penknife and slices through the plastic. It’s not as precise as he would’ve hoped for - with the shake of anticipation shuddering through his hands and knees - but it doesn’t matter too much.

Carefully, he pulls each beer can out of the packaging, and throws the plastic aside. The next challenge is to actually work up the courage to crack one open, so he takes a slice of Dick’s favourite pizza to procrastinate. Something he’d taken to, because he knows that this was chosen as Dick’s favourite by Dick, and not by someone else.

After they’d found out that he was a clone - the mole - all along, he’d been kind of… off. He didn’t feel like enjoying the things he used to enjoy, anymore. Because they weren’t things that he enjoyed. They were things that _Roy_ enjoyed. The real Roy.

He’s heard them say it a thousand and one times; that he is real. But he still doesn’t feel real. He feels like a fake. He just up and stole someone’s whole life - their personality, their potential, their what could have beens. He took their place. He took their family.

Sounds like a fake to him.

He picks out a random can, just holding it for a few moments, then switches it to his other hand when it gets too cold. He’s just about to reluctantly pull back the seal, when there’s a knock at the door. With a small bubble of relief, he puts the can back down and heads over to answer.

It’s Dick.

His smile is small, and oddly grim - although he’s clearly trying his best to hide it. They don’t greet each other. “Can I come in?”

And Roy stands to the side, because even though Dick has been strange recently, with whatever has been going on between him and the Bat, he’s still Roy’s friend. Dick hadn’t met the original Roy before he got kidnapped, so he’d only ever befriended clone-Roy. Him. Even if he did have a cut-and-paste personality ripped straight from real-Roy’s brain.

And Dick is upset. And he’s Dick’s friend. So he doesn’t mention anything with Bats, and he doesn’t mention the way his smile falls short. He shuts the door, offers a grin, and guides them to the old ratty sofa with ugly flower print, the one that he and Wally and Dick had dug out from a dump somewhere. “Want a beer?”

Dick raises a single, dainty eyebrow. “Aren’t you underage?”

Roy also raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“And aren’t I underage?”

He cocks his head to the side, a smile brimming to his lips. “Also yes?”

Dick grins. “Sure.”

And Roy feels more confident when someone else is here to get drunk for the first time with him, so they take a beer each and crack them open. Roy doesn’t want to look hesitant in front of Dick, so he goes to put it to his lips, but pauses half way.

“You ever been drunk before?”

“No,” Dick mutters, eyes on the froth fizzling out at the top of the can. “B would never let me. I didn’t think I’d ever try, considering the effects it has on a normal human body.”

He doubts Ollie would ever have that issue. He might pull an intervention if it went too far though, considering his past with alcohol. That’s one of the reasons Roy’s never done it, either. “My first time, too,” he admits.

Dick splutters, face red. “You don’t have to make it sound so sexual!”

A surprised laugh rips itself from Roy’s throat. He hadn’t been expecting that. “What are you, fifteen?”

“Fourteen!”

“Jesus Christ.” Sometimes he honestly forgets that Robin, probably the most competent of all the kid heroes, is also the youngest. He takes a small, tentative sip from the can, winces in preparation - and then takes another. Not as scary as he’d thought, but kind of fucking disgusting. He squints down at the can. “Since when have you been so squeamish about sex, anyway?”

Dick flushes, and Roy can instantly tell his mind is somewhere else. “Oh my God, don’t tell me you like someone. Please, actually don’t. You’re like… a child.” Ignoring the fact that Roy is technically younger.

“Shut up. I could kick your ass.” He totally could. Roy is not about to admit to that, though.

Instead, “So I’ve been thinking about changing my name.” At Dick’s wide eyes, he rolls his eyes. “Not yet. It’s just going to be exhausting calling us both Roy when I find the real Roy.”

“Roy - ”

“I’m going to find him. I don’t care what you say,” Dick’s eyes flicker back to the open can in his hand. “And he _is_ the original. You can’t deny that.”

“That doesn’t make you any more or less real.” His eyes are firm, and he’s always been stubborn, but Roy kind of forgot what it was like to butt heads with the other heroes. Especially Dick and Wally, when they know each other so well there’s nothing to butt heads about anymore, really. “I grew up with you, not him. You’re just as much of a person as he is, and you always will be.”

Roy slumps, takes another clumsy slurp from the can. Dick is also slumped, but it’s forward, so he doesn’t look as defeated as Roy feels. He wonders if that has anything to do with something (maybe the reason he turned up at Roy’s apartment unannounced), or if he’s just slumped because he’s feeling lazy. It’s always hard to tell with Dick.

“It doesn’t feel that way.” Is what he says, eventually.

Finally, Dick takes his own sip from the can. Comically, he swallows hard and then sticks out his tongue at the beer and exiles it to the coffee table with the others. Roy doesn’t bother holding back his smile. He really is a kid.

“I know the feeling,” is all he says, bitter, and then steals a slice from Roy’s pizza. Probably lukewarm by now.

Carefully, Roy watches the way Dick steadfastly avoids his gaze and chows down on the slice.

“Hey,” he says belatedly. He doesn’t really mind, and Dick’s probably looking for a pick me up. “That’s my pizza.”

Dick forces out a mischievous grin, but Roy can tell he’s in another place right now. He knows the look well enough. Roy downs the rest of his beer and tosses it at the table. It lands perfectly, face up and tail down.

“So, we’re finally getting down to why you’re really here?”

Dick doesn’t say anything. It’s almost predictable, but Roy doesn’t really mind. Sometimes it takes a while for Dick to gather his thoughts - and sometimes that comes in the form of making jokes to distract people while he tries to come up with something, and sometimes it comes in the form of stale silence. At those times, it can be a good idea to help by narrowing down the options on what to talk about.

“It’s something to do with Bats, isn’t it?” He prods. Dick scowls down at his hands and starts picking at his nails. He always finds some way to fiddle with his hands, no matter what mood he’s in. It’s pretty clear that Roy basically hit the nail on the head. “I’ll kick his ass for you.” He offers.

They both know that’s not going to happen (although probably not from lack of trying), but the scowl slowly melts away, and the naked underneath drifts up to the surface. Something enters his expression, like sadness, or maybe closer to loneliness.

He sighs. “I just… wish he’d be more…” he grits his teeth and scrubs his hair back. “Less… you know.”

“Stifling?”

“Yes!” he starts running the nail of his thumb over the pads of his fingers, the way he does when there’s sparks of fire thrumming through him, and it makes him look like he’s fizzing up with effervescence on the inside, but trying to hold it in on the outside. At least, that’s what Roy thinks it means. He always does it on missions when there’s a certain energy building up around them - tense, scrambled, splaying like fire from the seams. “That’s it exactly. I… don’t know how much longer I can stay there, honestly. It’s just so… I…”

Roy doesn’t bother pushing. There are times to narrow down a focus for Dick to concentrate on, and there are times to just let him come up with something on his own. In any case, Roy is pretty sure Dick knows what he wants to say - he’s just considering if he knows how to handle the reaction Roy might have. Whatever he’s trying to say.

“Is it bad if…” he takes a breath, turning his face away almost completely. “If I don’t want… want to be Batman?”

“Oh.” Is that what Bats is upset about? Is that why they’ve been darting around each other this whole time? Is this why Dick’s been acting so off recently? _This?_ The fuck.

It’s pretty clear he hasn’t told anyone yet, or maybe only one or two people (in the back of his head, he wonders if Wally is one of them. When you come down to it, he’s been desperate to be like Flash since the beginning, and that might intimidate Dick. Just a little). It is a pretty big deal, after all - everyone’s just kind of been assuming that that’s the person he’ll be when he gets older. Even Roy had been, for a while there. But it shouldn’t surprise anyone that Dick is his own person, least of all him.

Still, he pulls out a wry grin when Dick turns to side eye him curiously. “Look who you’re talking to, kid.”

Dick breathes out, his entire body deflating, falling back into the couch like a popped balloon. Maybe out of relief, or maybe out of sheer exhaustion. “Yeah, probably should have thought of that.” Then he blinks. “Also, I’m older than you.”

Roy grins wider. “Want to try again, whippersnapper? I’m nineteen. Sometimes twenty one, when I’m feeling it.” He wriggles his eyebrows, the way he used to when Wally and Dick were younger and would laugh at pretty much anything. Way before they knew he was a clone, and way, way before all of this shit with Batman - well, that’s how it feels.

Dick winces, making a playfully disgusted face. “I don’t know why you bother. That stuff is horrible.” Well, Roy could agree, but really. 

He picks up Dick’s mostly untouched can of beer, and chugs the lot while holding perfect eye contact with him. It’s the kind of humour they had way back when they were kids. Real kids, without all this stress and anger and fear they’d somehow built up over the years.

And Dick laughs, and steals another slice of pizza. And Roy lets him, because that’s just kind of what they need right now. He turns on an episode of _Criminal Minds_ , listens to Dick complain about various characters not doing their jobs right, or bad representations of procedures and then whatever else.

He never does quite get beyond just tipsy, but Dick’s company is more than enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
